by Alice Sabo
Kyle took the old man to the men’s showers. Jean and Ruth took charge of the women. Tilly watched them leave, noticing how each of them limped. Pat leaned a little to one side as she walked. Coco’s limp was more pronounced, as if one leg was shorter than the other. Sadie dragged her left foot. A shiver skated down Tilly’s spine as she put the facts together. Three pregnant women, and none of them fit for work in the fields or other physical labor. She needed to speak to Martin.
He waited, watching her, leaning on the wall by the bussing station. As soon as she caught his eye, he met her halfway. “You look like you just had a really bad idea.”
Tilly chewed her lip. “Maybe I have. What if they escaped from somewhere?”
“Always possible.”
“What if someone’s after them?”
“Three pregnant women and a couple that old on foot in the rain will not make good time on the road.”
Tilly let out a breath. “I’m jumping at shadows these days, aren’t I?”
“If they snuck out, if they got a head start...” Martin shrugged. “I’ll make sure the men are sharp. Maybe extend a couple patrols.”
She patted Martin’s arm. “I wish Wisp were here.”
Martin grunted.
“I can’t believe how fast we’ve come to rely on him.”
“He’s well trained.”
Tilly shook her head. “You know what I mean. He could tell us if someone followed those poor people. They’re scared out of their wits. The women are so thin I fear for the babies. As soon as they’re warmed up, I want Ruth to give them all a thorough exam.”
“That’s women’s work,” Martin said with a wink.
Tilly swatted his shoulder. “Chauvinist.” She looked around to locate Angus, finding him at his usual table with his usual clutter, which someone must have fetched for him because he had been empty-handed the last time Tilly saw him. “Come on, let’s report to the old man.”
Angus listened to their brief report, a finger tapping on the table.
“What?” Tilly interrupted Martin’s description of the refugees. She knew what that tapping finger meant.
“We prepared for refugees, but we didn’t prepare for casualties.”
Martin slumped back into his chair with a generic grumble.
“They walked here,” Tilly countered. “They aren’t casualties.”
“The old couple will need time to recuperate, but even then, we don’t know if they will be able to take on any chores. And the pregnant women look like they need, at the very least, a few days of bed rest. Again, we don’t know what they will be able to contribute once they are on their feet. We didn’t think about having non-functioning members.” Angus frowned thoughtfully. “I need to run some numbers, figure out what percentage of our population can be dead weight.”
“Don’t you dare call them dead weight,” Tilly said her voice louder than she’d intended. “Are babies dead weight? Because they aren’t contributing to the community.”
Angus’s blue eyes held a sadness that poured cold water on her escalating anger. “Yes, my dear, they are dead weight, but one we expect to support, which usually has the counter of a working parent or two. The children from Barberry Cove are mostly dead weight although I hear that some of them are helping out where they can. They are potential. An invalid with no family has no one to balance the drain of their care and most likely, no future potential.”
“You aren’t going to make them leave,” Tilly said. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement that she believed in whole heartedly.
Angus shook his head. “No, of course not. We are able to take in a number of invalids right now. I just need to think about the balance.”
“What happens when we can’t?” Martin asked. His brown eyes were calm, but Tilly saw the muscle in his jaw clench.
“We need to prepare now, so that we can figure out the balance as we go.”
Tilly could see the weight on Angus. A new worry, and not one that would send him off to delightful research. She knew in her heart that he was right. She had run a hospital in a different lifetime. There had been an enormous support staff to care for the patients—doctors, nurses, lab techs, janitors, laundry workers, dieticians, cooks, administration staff. And all of it run on the fees for care. In a barter world, things were different. They couldn’t have more people needing care than they had caretakers. And each of those caretakers was a pair of hands not doing other chores, like feeding the chickens or weeding the carrot patch.
Martin stood, ending the meeting. “I’ll have the men do a wide sweep. It’s still raining, but I think we can retract all the shutters now.”
“Might as well. I feel better when I can see out.” Angus glanced over his shoulder at the shuttered window.
Tilly went back to the kitchen to check in on the dinner prep. Mary, with an apron over her round stomach, stirred a pot on the stove. From the look of her, Tilly worried that she was past due. And now three more pregnant women. If any of them had trouble nursing, at least there would be other mothers around. Without access to milk, they had few options to feed an infant. Which made her realize that she needed to formalize a group for the mothers to help each other. New people might not realize how this community took care of each other. She needed to match up the latest arrivals with other new mothers.
Lottie came from the back hall carrying a crate of produce, her bright orange slicker dripping a trail of water behind her. She provided Tilly with a welcomed distraction.
“What have we got today?” Tilly asked, a cheerful note forcefully inserted into her words.
Lottie shot her a curious look. “More tomatoes. With all this rain, I don’t think we can stop the blight. We’re harvesting anything close to ripe.”
“We’ll do what we can. Mary, see if we have any volunteers to dry and sort this,” Tilly said, gesturing to the load of tomatoes. That was a simple, sit-down job that a child could do. Tilly made a mental note to think about those sorts of jobs now. Very often, she’d do them herself. Now that she was needed in six directions at once, she had to delegate more.
“We weren’t going to harvest anything else today, unless you need something,” Lottie added.
Tilly had made the menu yesterday. She knew the contents of the pantry and refrigerator by heart. “I think we’re good. Thanks, Lottie.”
“Hello, the kitchen,” sang out an unfamiliar voice.
Tilly went to greet the new arrival. Rosa came in, a small bucket in hand. Tilly waved her in. “We’re just starting dinner,” she said in way of warning.
Rosa held up her bucket. “I thought I would share with you our goat milk.”
“You have goats?”
“They pull our carts. And we bring along a nanny for milk. It’s a food source that carries itself,” she said with a bright look. “Since we are eating your food right now, I thought we should contribute.”
Tilly felt the kitchen workers converging. “Thank you. We are grateful for all gifts of food.” Her brain shuffled through a dozen wants and settled on a few needs. “I think this is just what we need for a few starving mothers.”
Chapter 22
“Some people left the country hoping that other places were handling the disease better. It wasn’t a matter of a localized crisis. The flu had been spread worldwide. Countries closed their borders leaving travelers to languish in ad hoc refugee camps on docks and in airports. Once you left, no one would let you back in.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
NICK FOLLOWED THE SOUND of Toad on the stairs. He climbed in the darkness, Willboy hanging on to him. A whisper of sound behind him reassured him that Wisp was bringing up the rear. They dodged through the hulks of machinery and out into the gray, wet morning.
Toad piled into the van. Nick swung Willboy down for him to scramble in. Wisp came right behind him tossing his sack in and slamming the cargo door shut. As Nick got in the driver’s seat, Wisp got in the passenger’s. Nick started the van.
“All present?” Wisp called.
“Everyone’s here,” Ted answered.
Nick pulled away warily, not wanting to get stuck in the wet sand. This van wasn’t as good off-road as the new ones. “Back the way we came?”
Wisp pulled out the paper map they’d marked up on the way in. “Might want to detour a bit off the main roads right now.”
“Got a route?” Nick asked.
Wisp directed him up a steep access road from the river. They took an overgrown dirt lane for a mile then turned into the parking lot of an old factory. Nick had a feeling he knew where they were headed. They bumped back out of the pot-holed driveway onto the road that curved through Clarkston and followed the river. North of here it would run past the factory where the residents of Riverbank had been gunned down by mercenaries. Before those dark memories could take hold, Wisp directed him through a few more turns. Ten minutes later they were back on the road to High Meadow.
Ted’s voice was a little shaky from the back. “How long of a trip is it?”
Nick didn’t want to tell a van full of kids that it would take them all day.
Wisp leaned over to speak through the seats. “It depends on the roads, and if the weather holds. We might be there for dinner. But we’ll stop for lunch along the way.”
Nick slowed the van to go around a pothole the size of a loveseat. A few voices piped up in the back asking questions and arguing. “It’s gonna be noisy,” he grumbled.
“They are more curious than frightened,” Wisp murmured back.
“I guess that’s a good thing.” He inspected the mob in the rearview mirror. “Seventeen kids. More parents missing. This is more widespread than we realized. We need to figure it out fast.”
“Angus is correct that we need more information. If the victim from Barberry Cove isn’t awake yet, I think we need to go looking anyway. We won’t be able to gather any more information waiting at High Meadow.”
“Won’t get an argument from me,” Nick grumbled. He didn’t like the theme that was developing here. Every time he went out on a simple mission, things went sideways, and he ended up with a cargo of frightened people. He didn’t want his world to behave this way, but there didn’t seem to be any way to change it.
Most of the kids fell asleep. The few that were awake talked quietly. Nick wondered if they could feel his annoyance. He assumed Wisp did. The sooner they got back to High Meadow and dropped off the kids, the sooner they could head out to find the missing adults from Barberry Cove.
“Pull over,” Wisp said.
Nick pulled to the side of the road, hoping that Wisp could feel a carsick kid. Wisp got out of the van and walked away.
Ted crawled forward between the front seats. “What’s he doing?”
“Probably checking for trouble,” Nick said.
“What kind of trouble?”
Nick turned to get a better look at Ted. He was a small man, barely shoulder height to his brother. His weathered, tan face made him look older, and his beard gave him the look of a vagabond. His eyes reminded Nick of a dog that had been punished too often. He seemed hesitant to do anything for fear it would be the wrong thing. “Just in case,” Nick said vaguely. He didn’t want to panic Ted because that would affect the kids.
Wisp came back to the car. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Problem?” Nick asked.
Wisp shook his head. “I thought I felt something, but I can’t find it.”
Nick pulled the van back on the road. Light rain pattered down on the roof, barely heard over the sound of the tires on wet pavement. He eyed the cloud cover and checked the power levels. It looked like they had plenty of juice to get them home. The constant drizzle was annoying but not dangerous. The sky was a blanket of monotonous gray, and the temperature seemed to have dropped, indicting a northern front bring in with cooler air. When it hit the humid, hot air coming up from the gulf, they had monster storms. This was an abnormal weather pattern, but he’d take it as a stroke of luck.
Nick stopped an hour later to stretch his legs and swap with Wisp. He took his time going over the paper map, making notes on the condition of the road. Two hours after that, Wisp pulled into an old rest stop to use the shelter for lunch. Nick watched Ted wrangle the children. They were surprisingly obedient. He had them out of the van and distributing food in a very short time. Nixie was awake and limping around with the help of a child or two. The antibiotic ointment had worked fast, or maybe biobots healed faster.
Nick stood next to Wisp in a dry spot under the overhang, leaning against the building, as he ate. “Ugh. Am I spoiled, or does this Stew-goo taste off to you?”
“The quality varies. The packages aren’t dated, but I’d say this one is past its expiration.” Wisp examined his opened but uneaten package.
Nick didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought they were good forever.”
Wisp shot him a curious look. “Realistically?”
Nick sniffed his lunch. It definitely had a bad smell to the concoction. He tossed it in a trash barrel and went back to the van for a different one. He poked through the bag of packets. Some looked a bit more worn than others. He chose one with a crisp, red wrapper.
Toad came over. “Seconds?”
Nick wasn’t sure how he felt about this guy. He was big and looked strong enough to be out on his own. He couldn’t tell if Toad was a helper or a user. He tossed him another packet of Stew-goo. “We have plenty of food at High Meadow.”
“Good.” Toad pocketed the food and slunk away.
Nick’s new meal tasted better. He worried that one of the kids might eat a bad meal and get sick in the van. With another four or five hours of driving ahead of them, that would be a very bad outcome. He went back to stand by Wisp. “Can you tell if one of them might get sick?”
Wisp frowned a question at him. “I can sometimes sense illness.”
“No I mean, if the kids get carsick.”
“I think they’ll let you know that.”
“Well, I want plenty of warning to pull over.”
Wisp gave him an amused smile. “I’ll speak to Ted.”
Nick looked up at the gray sky. “Think we’ll make it back by dinner?”
Wisp didn’t answer. He walked away, hand raised in warning, head cocked in a listening pose. Nick went over to Ted. “Round up the kids. Wisp’s got a scent.”
“A what?” Ted looked around, locating his brother.
Wisp spun back to them. “Get the kids out of sight, something’s coming.”
“Behind the shelter!” Nick yelled. He saw Ted lurch into action, running over to Nixie, helping her up. The children scattered, racing around the building.
Wisp jumped into the van, pulling it behind the building. He fished out a pair of handguns from under the front seat and handed one to Nick. “Here it comes.”
Chapter 23
“All of the issues that had been so important to us lost their momentum as people turned their minds to simple survival.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
TILLY HOPED THAT THE refugees did not bring bad luck with them, but it might be too late. The old man died that day before dinner. Dr. Jameson said it was malnutrition. It broke her heart that he’d managed to get to safety but didn’t survive the journey. Coco went into labor just as they started serving dinner. It took less than an hour to deliver a stillborn child. Coco was so exhausted and malnourished, Ruth warned they might lose her, too, before the end of the day. Tilly made arrangements for the bodies to be buried. She gleaned what information she could from the others for Angus’s research, but they were a closed-mouth bunch.
After dinner, Sadie staggered into the infirmary complaining of stomach pain. Tilly had tried to keep them all in bed, but they were too untrusting to stay put. Ruth declared it a case of too much food too fast for a starved body and that Sadie should recover soon. Since she was only six months pregnant by her accounting, it was a good thing she hadn’t been in labor.
By early evening, Tilly’s nerves were worn thin. She expected another tragedy any second. Nick and Wisp were due to return by dinner at the very earliest, but she worried anyway. Lottie came to tell her that the blight moved on to the potatoes now. That was disheartening. She could pick unripe tomatoes to ripen later, but immature potatoes were tiny things. Losing that crop put a dent in her forecast for the winter. Lottie warned her that peppers were in the same family and might be next.
She headed down to the kitchen, where she found Mary in tears. She was nearly hysterical about Coco’s loss. Tilly grabbed a loitering child and sent him off to find Joshua. Mary needed her husband now. “Sit,” she said guiding Mary to the padded chair they’d added to the kitchen for her. “Breathe.”
“It could happen to anyone,” Mary said between shaky breaths.
“Did you feel the baby today?”
Mary clutched her stomach. “He’s been kicking for awhile.”
“Then he’s fine,” Tilly soothed. “He can feel how upset you are. You need to calm down.”
Joshua arrived out of breath. “Mary?”
His presence set her off crying again. Tilly went to check on the prep for tomorrow’s meals. At this point, there was nothing she could do for Mary’s grief over Coco’s loss. An expectant mother took that kind of news especially hard. She wouldn’t be surprised if Mary went into labor herself.
William trotted into the kitchen. He took his job as Angus’s shadow very seriously. “Tilly, Angus says to come.”
“Good lord, Now what?”
When Tilly stepped into the hallway, three armed Watchmen passed her heading for the main entrance. She hurried down to Angus’s office. Martin was there, coordinating on the radio.
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
Angus sat in the discussion circle, in a comfortable old armchair. He waved her to the chair next to him. “Someone coming in from Creamery,” he murmured.
“Why is that a problem?”